Return
by pfeffi
Summary: He was a punk, not a forlorn, lovesick fool. Or so he thought. — PhoebeSidney.


**author's note: **It's been a while since I've written any oneshots – particularly pokemon ones – so, don't expect this one to be brilliant. It was more of a quick thing that I wrote just recently. I will say, though, that I love this pairing, and this oneshot doesn't do it justice, which is why a better one is on it's way. Eventually. Haha. Anyway, if you like (somewhat) pointless fluff, I hope you enjoy!

**disclaimer: **I don't own pokemon. Nintendo does. Lucky ducks.

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><p><strong>return<strong>

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Phoebe was packing her bag and preparing to leave the Hoenn League. Not forever, mind you, she loved her job too much for that, but even she needed a break once in a while. And that was exactly what she was doing; she was on a one week leave with pay (Steven and Wallace had been too kind to give her a paid vacation, not that she was going to complain). She hummed a happy tune while she zipped up her messenger bag – she traveled light and she was going home, clothes and other necessities were already waiting for her – and when she finished, she danced out of her room and made way to where her friends and colleagues were relaxing.

"Excited, are ye'?" Drake chuckled as Phoebe waltzed in.

She smiled at the eldest elite. "Yup! How could you tell?"

"Maybe it was the way you bounded into the room, or the way you're standing, which makes me think you're trying your hardest not to bounce off the walls out of pure joy." Glacia chimed, laughing behind her hand.

"Maybe that's what it was," Phoebe joined in with the laughter. When it subsided, she took a moment to look around the room, and how empty it was.

Steven wasn't there, as usual, he had been called in the middle of the night the night before, by his father, who said he needed to see his son immediately, and that it was urgent. Phoebe had run into him on his way out, when she was returning her beloved ghosts to their pokeballs, and getting ready to head to bed herself. She smiled, a little, at the memory – how frazzled he had looked!

Wallace, on the other hand, was there. Well, he wasn't quite in the League building, but he was still in Ever Grande, waiting for Phoebe by the waterfall, outside of Victory Road. Seeing as she had no way to leave the island, because her pokemon were all ghost types and none of them could teleport her away, nor could they use Surf to cross the waves, Wallace had offered to assist her. He and his Wailord were waiting (why he chose such a big pokemon instead of his Milotic or Gyarados, she didn't know) to take her to Mt. Pyre. She knew her way from there.

That left the three elites that she worked with daily – Steven and Wallace showed up a good portion of the time, but they weren't always there – and of those three, only two were sitting in the room. Drake was leaning against the wall, staring out the window and watching the waves crash against the shore. Normally he would also be at the waterfall; for a dragon trainer, he loved the oceans. Once upon a time, he had been a sailor, the captain of a ship. He had switched professions, but perhaps not passions, Phoebe thought, though he was very happy working at the League.

The icy elite, Glacia, on the other hand, was sitting at the table, sipping away at some hot tea. It was funny, Phoebe thought, that a woman with icy determination and cold tactics enjoyed something as warm as tea, or the company of others. Phoebe was quite glad for that, actually, she was happy to have another woman to chat with, especially since she and Glacia got along very well. In fact, Phoebe got along well with all of her colleagues, and funnily enough, the person that she got along with the best, was the one that wasn't in the room.

"Have either of you seen Sidney?" She asked.

"I haven't seen him, but I've heard him." Glacia responded. "His music is as loud as ever. He was in his room earlier, but it's likely that he's now waiting to see if any challengers show up."

"Got it." Phoebe smiled. "I'm going to go say bye to him, and then I'm off. Don't miss me too much, okay?"

"It'll be difficult, lass, but we'll try." Drake teased in response, laughing again.

Glacia joined in. "Enjoy yourself, dear. Tell your grandparents we said hello."

"Will do!" And with that, she disappeared down the hallway.

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Sidney was indeed waiting for challengers to show up, though it was a weekend, and most trainers didn't choose to battle them on Saturdays and Sundays. He knew that too, but he used his job as an excuse to stay away from his colleagues, as odd as it sounded. It wasn't that he didn't like them, they were practically family to him, it was that he didn't think he could face an excited, smiling Phoebe on a day when he didn't feel the same way.

Unfortunately for him, he found that he didn't really have a choice as she walked into the room.

"Weekend battles, huh?" She laughed. "There's only a five percent chance that a trainer will actually show up. You want to come see me off, instead of lounge around here?"

_Not really. _"Sure – let's go Phoebs."

Cracking a smile at her nickname, Phoebe offered her hand to Sidney to pull him to his feet, and he walked along side her out of the League. He sighed, inwardly. One week was how long she would be gone, which meant that it would be one week until he could share his music with someone who appreciated it, one week until there would be loud laughter in the hallways, one week until there would be a ghost trainer who embraced the same darkness that he had taken a liking to, would also shine light on everyone and everything. Or, if not light, then at least a sunny smile.

Yes, he was going to miss her. Even if it was only a week.

They entered Victory Road, passing by Wally – a boy that challenged them often, they had grown rather fond of the frail boy – and plenty of Ace Trainers that watched them in both awe and confusion. Maybe it was the fact that Sidney had peculiar hair. Or the fact that Phoebe was walking through the cave barefoot, looking as though she had come from a tropical paradise. There was also the plausible option that it was because they were of the Elite Four, and seeing two of them at the same time wasn't exactly a common thing.

Phoebe tittered on about this and that, what she was planning on doing with her grandparents and mentioning something about the Blue and Red Orbs that they guarded – he briefly remembered Team Aqua and Magma and their successful attempts to steal both, but decided not to bring them up – and she talked about her love of Mt. Pyre and how she knew all the secret, hidden corners of it. He only half paid attention, focusing more on wrestling with his own thoughts, but being a musician had its perks; he could listen to music in the background, still grasp the lyrics and the instruments, while doing something else at the same time. And that was just what he did: Phoebe's voice became the lyrics to a _beautiful _song.

He cursed inwardly. He was a punk, not a forlorn, lovesick fool!

"Aren't you one of the Elite Four?" He was broken out of his cursing when he noticed that Phoebe was talking with one of the Ace Trainers.

"I am," she smiled. "So is he."

"Why aren't you guys at the League?" The girl asked, crossing her arms distastefully.

Phoebe continued to smile, even so. "We're going out – even us elites need fresh air sometimes! Being cooped up in one place for a long time isn't good for a person's health, you know?"

"But you're supposed to be waiting for trainers, like me."

"If a trainer shows up, we'll be there." Phoebe's eyes twinkled. "Right, Sidney?"

The Ace Trainer turned her head to stare at him. Sidney shifted, hands burrowed in his pockets. "Yeah, that's right. We're always there."

Somewhat, at least.

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"Alright, Sidney."

"Alright?"

"Spill. What made the sun stop shining in your musical world?"

As they walked out of Victory Road, Sidney paused to stare at Phoebe, who stared right back, her eyes filled with what he thought was determination, and perhaps also concern. He rubbed the back of his neck, standing awkwardly. He towered over her, but at that moment, he felt considerably smaller than the ghost mistress.

"What do you mean?" He replied, lamely. He knew _exactly_ what she meant, and he knew the exact reason to, he just wasn't going to admit it.

Or so he thought.

"I mean, what's made you upset? You're normally a lot more upbeat, but today those drums just aren't playing for you. You're not keeping up with me!" She put her hands on her hips. "So, I'll ask again– what's made the sun stop shining for you?"

He thought about how to phrase it best for a long moment. She waited patiently. "I dunno," he replied in an ungracefully (and reluctantly), "guess it'll just be quiet without you."

"You've got your music, Sid, and Wallace's lectures on who knows what, and Drake's loud laughing, and all those trainers that are going to show up! It's not going to be quiet." Phoebe laughed.

"Maybe not," Sidney said. "But it won't be the same."

"That's what's made you so down? You're going to miss me?" Phoebe stared at him. "Every time I've left before, you didn't act like this!"

"Yeah, well–"

Phoebe didn't even give him a chance to defend himself (though secretly he was quite glad, since he didn't have a proper argument to present), smiling in a silly way and then giggling.

"All you had to do was say so, punk." She tilted her head and smiled. He noticed how remarkably pretty she looked in the sunlight. "My grandparents don't have a telephone at their home, but, how's this: I'll send you a postcard! And maybe a picture too, if I can fish out their old, _old_ camera."

Sidney's outlook brightened considerably – for a _dark_ trainer. Then one cinnamon hand rested itself on his shoulder, two blue eyes sparkled up at him, and for three (and a half, but he wasn't counting) seconds did she embrace him before going over to Wallace.

"I promise not to forget, okay?" She called, grabbing hold of Wallace's hand and letting him help her hop onto the back of his Wailord. "So keep an eye out!"

Had he been given the chance to collect his thoughts, Sidney would have most likely embraced her in return, but she was a quick girl, and barely gave him any time to react. Nevertheless, his usual, carefree smile appeared on his face and he lifted his hand to wave at her disappearing figure.

"I will!" He shouted, so loudly that his throat hurt (but only a little).

In the distance, he saw her wave furiously in return.

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She promised him one postcard, and she kept her word. In fact, she sent him four, each one signed with her name and a series of x's and o's and an '_I miss you!_' She included pictures of herself and her grandparents, her pokemon playing on Mt. Pyre, and a picture of the shrine they guarded, with the Red and Blue Orbs glowing beside each other.

Being the _punk_ he was, Sidney read them all in the lounge, and smiled some, but then set them on the table and left, pretending that he didn't care. Glacia took a moment to look at them herself, smiling serenely, and perhaps a little deviously (or was it knowingly?) at him when she left the room. Despite his façade, later that night, he snuck out of his bed and tiptoed into the waiting room – successfully managing to hit his toe once – and stuffed the postcards in his pockets and sneak them back into his room, putting them in one of his desk drawers.

Sure, he was a punk; but he was also a forlorn, lovesick fool who kept every one of her letters.


End file.
